


It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas

by this_is_not_nothing



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Christmas Fluff, David Rose is a Nice Person, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, brief mentions of Twyla and Marcy, special occassion mugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:55:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21867868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/this_is_not_nothing/pseuds/this_is_not_nothing
Summary: David brings a little bit of Farm Christmas to Rose Apothecary
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 90
Kudos: 170
Collections: Schitt's Creek Open Fic Night 2.0





	It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> biggest thanks to [thegrayness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegrayness/pseuds/thegrayness) and [ahurston](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahurston)—this doesn't exist without your incessant hand holding, cheering and help.

If Patrick sighs one more time, David is going to throw his gold rings at him one-by-one and leave the store, the town, the country. David’s not sure what is going on, but Patrick’s been moping around the store for the last couple of days. Patrick keeps insisting he’s fine, when it’s very clear that’s not at all true.

“Okay! _Okay_. I’m going to get us coffees from the cafe.”

“David. I don’t drink—”

“Patrick. Don’t be a pedantic little b.”

David is very tempted to get Patrick a latte, but orders Patrick his usual tea anyway, because he loves Patrick—though maybe slightly less than usual at this moment.

When he gets back to the store, Patrick is pouting at his laptop. David sets the tea down next to him. Enough is enough.

“Okay—so _what_ is going on?” He waves his hand in Patrick’s general direction.

“I’m getting an error in this spreadsheet.”

“Patrick. That is not a spreadsheet face.”

Patrick opens his mouth and David holds up a hand.

“It’s not. You’ve been like this for days. Don’t try to tell me you’re fine—I know you.” David’s voice goes soft on the last part, and Patrick’s bottom lip returns to it’s normal not pouting position.

“I forgot this was a Farm Christmas year,” Patrick mumbles.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I talked to my parents the other day—I was trying to figure out if we could go there for Christmas. But I forgot, it’s a Farm Christmas year.”

“Oh—yeah, I’m sorry, I still don’t know what that means?” David wants to be supportive, but he’s not sure what he’s supposed to be providing structural integrity for.

Patrick takes a deep breath. “Every other year, we go to my grandmother’s farm, and celebrate there—all my Dad’s brothers come, and all my cousins, and I just—I forgot it was this year.”

“We can go. Let’s go.” David doesn’t understand, he would definitely do this for Patrick, why didn’t Patrick say anything?

“It’s like a ten-hour drive from here and with the store, it’s just—we’re not gonna be able to.”

“You can go, I can handle the store.” David can do this for Patrick. He should go have a snow globe Christmas, all warmth and nostalgia and cookies trapped in a bubble of love.

“David. We are not spending our first Christmas as fiancés apart. I don’t want that.” David steps behind the counter so they can be closer and plucks at Patrick’s shoulder a few times.

David’s slowly catching up, hearing all the things Patrick isn’t saying. David’s getting better at listening to the silences. “Patrick, you haven’t been home for Christmas since you moved here.”

“I know. I didn’t mean to but—it just happened. The first year—it was too much, too soon after all the Rachel stuff. And last year, I couldn’t—I wanted to be with you. I thought this Christmas we could go visit together. But—we can’t.” Patrick doesn’t mention why he couldn’t bring David home last Christmas, and David gives his bicep a squeeze. David knows there are things Patrick regrets about not being ready to come out to his parents sooner.

“We can close the store or ask Stevie or at least go visit for New Years or—” David’s brain is flicking thought ideas like they’re paint chips, but nothing is the right shade.

“We really, really can’t. This year has been good, but not _‘close the store during the busiest time of the year so I can go string up twinkle lights in the tree room with my dad’_ good.”

“That sounds nice—twinkle lights are nice.” David rubs his hand up and down Patrick’s back.

“When we were done, we’d plug them all in and drink fancy cocoa out of the special occasion mugs and sit there and admire our work. We spike the cocoa now with a little of the Irish Mist my grandmother pretends is a remnant from when my grandfather was alive, even though there’s always an unopened bottle waiting for us.” Patrick’s voice is quiet, and David reaches over to thumb away the tear spilling out from the corner of Patrick’s eye.

”I just—didn’t realize how much I missed it until I heard my mom talking about needing to make the Christmas shortbread and reminding my dad to buy the good wine and—” David takes a step closer, and puts his arms around Patrick’s neck, pulling him in, and he feels Patrick’s arms go around his waist, like they always do. There’s not too much he can say to fix this, but he’s glad Patrick is talking about it. “God I feel so stupid, why does this matter so much?”

“Patrick, it’s not stupid to care, or to miss your family. And—we can make our own traditions, if that would help?” David murmurs into Patrick’s hair.

“David. You don’t—we don’t have to do that. I know Christmas isn’t really your thing.”

“Might be nice, for both of us. I don’t really have any winter traditions of my own, beyond enduring my father’s holiday parties.”

“Yeah—I—that would be nice.”

“I know last year, I said that a tree didn’t fit the overall motif of the decorations for the store we were planning. But maybe this year we can get one?”

Patrick pulls his head back, and looks at David with a glint in this eye. “I can be in charge of lights, you can be in charge of telling me I’m doing it wrong.”

“To be clear—we’ll be getting white lights and sophisticated ornaments, probably monochrome, definitely hand-blown glass.”

“Oh, I know. Hey—since we’re going to be in town this year—we can host the Rose family party here, instead of the motel.” Patrick's face breaks out into a grin, the first one David's seen in like a hundred hours.

“Mm. Something to consider.” Supporting Patrick is turning into a lot of extra work, but Patrick looks excited, and he finds himself nodding. Maybe he’ll call Marcy and try to find out more about these ‘special occasion mugs.’ Maybe he’ll get some deep navy ornaments for the tree.

If someone had told past David the things he’d do for love would include calling _his fiancé’s mom on purpose_ or considering _colored_ ornaments for a Christmas tree, it would have been just as unbelievable as learning he’d be sharing a room with Alexis in his thirties.

Patrick tucks his face back into the crook of David’s neck and they stay there like, David's hand running up and down Patrick's back, until Bob jogs in looking to buy Gwen more body milk.

A few days later, Patrick goes to pick up the third order of the wreaths David had commissioned from Darlene. They got the first batch in the middle of November, and they sold out in two days—and the second batch went almost as quickly the next week. Darlene has a shockingly good eye for arranging greenery considering she lacks taste in, well, every other facet of her life. Patrick’s also going to talk to her about doing a small class a littler closer to the holidays, despite David’s objections to her being in his carefully curated environment.

David calls Marcy during a lull, hoping she’ll reveal the secret to the Farm Christmas Cocoa, which of course she does. “Honestly, It’s just a packet—from the store. But the trick is to make it with milk instead of water!” She laughs, and David knows that laugh. It’s the same one Patrick uses when he’s feeling sheepish or a little embarrassed about what he just admitted, like it’s not good enough even though it’s the truth. “I used to add whipped cream and sprinkles for Patrick when he was a boy.” Then she tells David the same thing Patrick did—that now Patrick and his dad spike it with a festively generous pour.

When Marcy tells him that she has an extra set of the mugs for Patrick and Clint for the Christmases they spent at home, he asks her if she could send them to Stevie at the motel. David also asks for any photos she has of the decorated room Patrick had described—maybe he can add them to his holiday decorating mood board.

**

David can tell by Patrick’s kisses that it’s both too early to be awake and that Patrick is in a good mood. David’s so happy that Patrick’s happy, he almost doesn’t mind being woken up so early. David opens his eyes, and is unpleasantly surprised by the fact that Patrick is dressed for the day.

“Someone’s up early,” David says.

“Not early, just let you sleep in.”

“Oh—well, thank you.”

“I’ll go open the store. There’s coffee on the nightstand.” Patrick kisses him again, warm and slow, until David starts trying to pull him back into bed.

“Can’t. Have to open the store.” Patrick presses another kiss to David’s lips. “And don’t forget we’re staying late tonight to decorate.” Patrick sounds giddy, like he does when he’s leaving for a hike.

It's the first Friday in December and Patrick wanted to stay late after they close tonight to decorate the store so it’s festive and fun for all the Saturdays in December—he looked so excited about it that David found himself smoothing his hands across the tops of Patrick’s shoulders, nodding along in agreement. David had added _working late_ to the ever-growing list of things he’ll do to make Patrick smile.

“Honey, I didn’t forget.” David’s been planning this surprise for weeks, he's not going to forget. “We bought the tree last night.”

“I know I’m just—I’m looking forward to this.”

“Me too, Patrick.” David pulls Patrick back in for another kiss, he can open the store a few minutes late.

When David gets to the store, it’s already busy, and it doesn’t let up. They don’t even really have a chance to eat lunch and by the time they close, David is over it. All he ate all day was half of Patrick’s corn muffin—which was _untoasted_ —and the better part of a wedge of brie that he borrowed from the fridge.

Patrick flips the sign to closed after they get the last few customers rung up and sent home. David looks around the store, nearly every display decimated, feeling proud but a little disgruntled over the amount of restocking they’re going to have to do tonight. David starts straightening up the center table, so they can more easily figure out what they need to grab from the back. “Dinner—” David starts.

“I’ll go get us dinner. Can you wait until I finish the receipts?”

“Probably not.” David pretends to faint and they both start laughing.

“I’ll hurry, we’re all out of smelling salts.” Patrick is grinning, and David misses this when the store is busy, getting to banter and make each other laugh and for Patrick to look at him like he’s on the verge of crossing the room in to kiss David.

While Patrick is at the cafe, David pulls out the lights he bought that match the kind from the photos Marcy sent. In every photo Marcy sent, Patrick and his dad are sitting next to big picture-perfect tree, that somehow always looks perfect each year, and the ceiling is all strung up with white lights—the whole room the epitome of what David always thought of as Television Christmas. Patrick and Clint have the same pleased and proud face in the most recent one and David likes it so much he took a picture of it to keep on his phone. David leaves the mugs and the liquor in his bag in case Patrick goes into the back—David wants to save that surprise until the end of the night.

David worries Twyla is going to mess up the Cocoa Plan, but then Patrick walks in with the bag of their takeout in one hand and the thermos David borrowed from Stevie, a remnant of one of her nights in the woods with Jake, in the other.

“Twyla sent this to you?” Patrick hold up the thermos.

“Yes, yup, thanks.” David takes it and quickly puts it in the back room.

“Gonna tell me what that’s about?”

“No, I’m not accepting questions at this time. I’m too hungry.”

Patrick smiles and shakes his head as he opens a bottle of wine to have with dinner.

“Is the wine part of the tradition?” David asks as he pops a french fry in his mouth.

“It can be.” Patrick opens his mouth and David gives him a fry, too.

After they finish eating, they put the tree up, which David thinks is technically a three person job because he feels he does best in a supervisory role. The tree is too big for Patrick to maneuver alone unfortunately, so David’s role is a bit more hands-on. Patrick finishes securing the tree in the stand and David grabs the box of lights he set off to the side while Patrick was out.

“Here are the lights, honey!” David is really excited to make tonight special for Patrick—to be able to do this for him. He sets the box down and they stand next to each other for a second, admiring the tree. They really did pick out a good one—Patrick insisted it had to be a Noble Fir but let David decide which tree would be the best shape for the store.

Patrick pulls out the first strand and looks up at David, his face doing the thing that makes David feel like the entire solar system. “These are—how did you—?”

“I wanted you to have a little bit of Farm Christmas here, since you—we can’t be there,” David says softly.

Patrick’s just standing there, looking at David, and his expression so overwhelmed—David’s starting to panic that it’s too much, that it’s going to make Patrick miss his family more.

“This is—thank you. You’re perfect. This—this means a lot.” Patrick’s voice catches on the last word and he clears his throat, blinking rapidly at David.

David smiles and kisses him lightly. “You’re welcome.”

“Okay, let’s get decorating.” Patrick gives his head a little shake and starts adding lights to the tree. David takes a second to appreciate his forearms before giving his own head a shake and hanging the garland around the doorframe to the back room. David keeps sneaking glances at Patrick, who looks so happy and cute putting the lights up, occasionally bopping his head to David’s Christmas playlist.

“How’s it going over there?” David asks.

“Pretty good—just about ready for the ornaments.” Patrick’s still bopping his head a little and David loves him so so much.

David finally gets the garland to his liking, and snaps a couple of photos for the store’s Instagram. He goes in the back to get the ornaments, and he can’t help but smile when he’s gotten a handful of the ornaments on the tree. He found the perfect vintage looking mercury glass ornaments and transparent deep blue glass orbs, and the effect with the white lights Patrick’s placed on the tree is practically perfect. It takes them a little over an hour to get the tree fully decorated—it would have gone faster but it turns out kissing is a crucial part of Patrick’s tree decorating process.

“Okay. So. Can you get a blanket down for us to sit on?” David asks.

“Uh—ok.”

“Just—I’m going to grab something. Put the blanket here.” David gestures near the front of the counter, so they have something to lean their backs against, and then heads into the stockroom.

David pulls the mugs from his bag, and fills them with the cocoa from Twyla—David makes a note to bring her a bottle of wine tomorrow.The mugs are trying very hard to be cute, light blue, covered in little darker blue snowflakes that are supposed to look hand painted, with a candy cane stripe pattern similarly printed onto the handle. They do look festive with the cocoa in them, warm and cozy and peak-Brewer. David awkwardly grabs both handles with one hand and the bottle of Irish Mist with the other, and heads back out to Patrick.

Patrick’s got his phone out and is somehow managing to take a truly terrible photo of the tree, and David has to bite his lip to keep from offering pointers about how to frame up the photo to showcase the store or the tree or the ornaments or—god, what is Patrick _even trying_ to showcase?

“A little help please?” David interrupts Patrick’s decidedly not decisive moment.

“Yeah, what do you n—” Patrick turns to look at David and his eyes widen at the mugs and when his gaze meets David’s it’s full of more affection than David will ever get used to being directed at him. “How did you? I...David.” Patrick’s voice wavers slightly and his eyes do that soft, affectionate thing that makes David feel like time slows down and nothing else matters.

“Just wanted to do something nice for you.” David hands Patrick one of the mugs then sets down the bottle and his mug before sitting next to him. “I might have had a little help from your mom.”

Patrick puts his mug down and gets a hand around the back of David’s head to pull him in, and kisses him so completely, his lips soft and perfect and insistent and David can practically hear _I love you I love you I love you_. When Patrick pulls back, his eyes are a little wet and David’s a little breathless. Patrick grins at him and reaches over to grab the whiskey, then adds a healthy pour to each of their mugs.

“Thank you for making this happen. I—you always know what to do to make it okay. I can’t believe I get to spend the rest of my Christmases with you.” Patrick clinks his mug against David’s and his eyes are so loud and warm and fond, David can practically hear the words.

“Love you, honey.” David taps his knee against Patrick’s and takes a sip of his cocoa—David can’t wait for a lifetime of traditions together.


End file.
